A Night In The Dungeon
by District 7 Profanity
Summary: An AU Prompt: Johanna and Katniss meet for the first time in a holding cell in the bottom of the Panem Police Department. Joniss happens! One-shot, complete.


_My mother is going to kill me._

I'm trying to make peace with that information. I lived a good life; eighteen years of being a good student, a good older sister, a friend, a daughter... If my mother were to storm into this facility right now and rip my head off like some sort of velociraptor, at least I could say I had won that science fair back in sixth grade and I always tried my best. I'll never make it to college, but I'm not really one for studying anyway. Yes, I decide, I've lived a good life. If she's going to kill me, it'll be okay. I'll never see what happens to Frank Underwood on _House of Cards _but I will make my peace with that.

My head is firmly in my hands as I stare down at the cold, gray cement at my feet. These holding cells are no joke, they look like some kind of nuclear fallout shelter in their dankness and lifeless walls. No wonder the kids I went to school with call this "the dungeon." It's just an iron maiden away from being one. The bench I'm sitting on is hardly fit for sitting with its unforgiving slab of concrete that pushes from the wall. There are two bunk beds on the right side of the holding cell but there isn't anyone occupying them. I guess Wednesday nights in August are not a popular time to break the law in Panem.

The girl across from me looks a little worse for the wear. She's dressed in a black ribbed tank top and her dark wash skinny jeans end up at a cute pair of navy blue Toms. Her hair is a choppy, short cut - black with just a few strands of red around her face. She's remarkably pretty, I think, considering she looks very hungover and the scowl on her face notwithstanding. I assume she's in here because of the nasty cut on her lip that looks like it only just stopped bleeding before I got here.

When I got here an hour ago she was staring at the wall above my head, chestnut brown eyes aflame with anger. She didn't even look over at me. Every time someone walked by I immediately jumped up and thought it was my mother, but she never moved. Only after I had sat down across from her did she move her intense stare to the opposite wall and completely ignored my presence. Which was fine by me because she looked like this was not her first time in here. I didn't need to be making friends with chronic criminals. No matter how cute she looked or how amazing her eyeliner was.

"Mason!" The lady officer barks from the other side of the - _gulp_, jail bars - and the girl slowly looks over to her, unimpressed. Her keys jangle in the lock and for a moment, I almost feel betrayed. _How could she get out first?_ Granted I don't know how long she's been in here but come on! I'm technically sort of innocent. "Go make your call."

I furrow my eyebrows at this statement. Weird, I had been allowed to make my call immediately. With a grunt the girl lifts herself from her seat, casting a glance my way as she swings her hips on the way out of the cell. I'm now certain that this is not her first time in the clink considering she's not even remotely nervous. I thought I was going to sweat through my tank top. She murmurs something to the officer that makes the long-haired woman shake her head and chuckle. After what seems like only a few seconds she comes back into the cell, the bars behind her slamming closed. She rolls her eyes in annoyance at the noise and I can't help but smile a little.

I avert my gaze to the ground; I don't want to seem eager to talk to some criminal. But the way she's looking at me, studying me, makes me think she wants to talk. I find myself almost hoping she does, if only for the brief human contact. "Johanna Mason," she finally says, holding out her hand to me. I can see her knuckles are bruised and cut, matching her lip which is now swelling a little.

"Katniss Everdeen," I hear myself say in response. _Why did I introduce myself to a criminal with my real name?! _I have no chill. I couldn't even think of some cool, undercover name. She doesn't look like a criminal though. She's petite and kind of cute... Her smile is wry and it dimples her cheek a little.

She plops down next to me and leans her head back against the wall. Her head turns to me, still pressed against the cement. "This doesn't exactly look like your scene. What are you in here for?"

I look over at her and smirk. "I thought you weren't supposed to ask that."

This makes her laugh a little and give me an approving look. "This isn't a penitentiary. This is basically a glorified doughnut shop for these fat-asses." She jerks her thumb and her eyes move to the desks where there is, in fact, an officer with his feet propped up on his desk eating a doughnut. She looks back to me and I find the smile on my face fading as I look into her eyes. They're so deeply brown it's like staring into a darkened forest. "So Piper Chapman, what didja do?" Her eyes light up and I don't dare say anything that may take away that light. "Can I guess?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Sure." There are far worse games to play, I suppose. Plus it will pass the time until my mother can leave her shift at the hospital and come pick me up.

For this she stands, bending one elbow and placing her other elbow in her hand. She puts one finger to her lips and begins looking at me up and down. "Okay so you look cleaned up and all, so I'm gonna cross out drugs and homelessness. It's a Wednesday, but early, so not breaking any sort of trespassing codes." So far she's right so I nod my head and she claps excitedly. "You're not drunk, at least not as drunk as me, so I'll eliminate underage drinking."

I raise my eyebrow at her and she stops speaking. "How do you know I'm not old enough to drink?"

She smirks at this, a little twinkle in her eye. "You have sort of a fresh-faced innocence about you, kid." I must make some sort of face that shows my displeasure and she steps forward into my personal bubble and leans down. "I didn't say it didn't suit you." She backs up before I can remember to breathe again and continues her study of me. "No injuries I can see, so I'm gonna cross out fighting."

I scoff. "Maybe you should see the other guy."

She tilts her head to the side. "Cute, but no. No I'm gonna say... vandalism." She crosses her arms over her chest in a triumphant manner even though I've given no indication that she's even remotely right. She is though, and my jaw slacks a little.

"Wait, how did you know that?" I'm completely impressed by her skills of deduction and she grins proudly. I really have to stop thinking about how cute she is because I did not get thrown in jail to find a girlfriend. She sits next to me and I'm surprised when she takes my hand but I don't say anything. She rolls my arm over and shows me the bright gold spray-paint mark that stretches across my forearm. I blush at my own stupidity but instead of poking fun at me, she smiles indulgently.

"Call it a hunch," she says with a wink. "What was a nice girl like you doing vandalizing property?"

"What makes you think I'm a nice girl?"

She nudges me with her shoulder. "Call that a hunch, too."

I look over at her and nod toward her lip. "What about you? I don't have to guess that the split lip you have is the reason you're in here." I'm deflecting her and she knows it but allows me.

Johanna lets out a sigh and looks up toward the ceiling. "My idiot friend has an equally idiotic boyfriend. He made the mistake of trying to physically drag her out of the bar in front of me. Instead he got punched in the face and kicked in the junk. This," she places her fingers gingerly on her cut, then lowers her hand, "is the only shot he got in before things get kind hazy. All I know is I basically came to in the back of Officer York's cop car."

Without my permission my hand comes up and I place my hand gently on her jaw. My thumb lightly brushes the cut and she sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't flinch. Her eyes are staring at me so intently I swear I could nearly read her mind. I don't know what makes me think I can touch her so intimately but she doesn't seem to mind. "You need ice for this."

"It's fine," she dismisses with a shake of her head.

I raise my eyebrow in disbelief. I know where she's coming from; back home I never let my sister or my mother, both caretakers, tend to my wounds unless I'm close to death. But she's going to regret not icing that wound in the morning. "It's not fine. You're gonna get big duck lips if you don't." I got up from my seat and went to the bars. I slam my palms against them and rattle them enough to get the lady cop's attention. She walks over and immediately looks behind me to Johanna.

"Did you do something to her, Mason?"

Before I can stick up for her Johanna chuckles. "Jealous, York?"

The woman goes to answer but I wave my hand. "She's hurt. Can we at least get her some ice?" She looks behind me to Johanna with a questioning eyebrow raise and a smirk on her lips. I look behind me at Johanna who shrugs her shoulders. I look at the woman expectantly. I wait near the bars as she disappears for a few moments. She strolls back to the cell and hands me a pack of ice. Her tongue is firmly placed between her teeth and her lips to prevent a smile but I choose to ignore it. "Thank you."

Officer York shakes her head at me and walks back to her desk. I have no idea why she's acting so strangely but it doesn't matter. I walk back to Johanna and hand her the ice pack. She takes the ice pack from me and mumbles a thank you under her breath. "Okay Nurse Everdeen. I'll sit here with your ice pack but you'll have to regale me with your tale of how you ended up in the clink."

I sigh and pull my feet up. My story is not as cool as sticking up for my friends and getting into a fight. "My friend Gale is protesting the working conditions in the mines outside of town. He's taken on tagging federal buildings as sort of his symbol of rebellion."

Johanna nods. "I've seen the posters for the cause all over town."

I roll my eyes. "That's him. We were at the courthouse and I was spray painting a sign against the wall and we got caught."

Johanna giggles and gives me a disbelieving stare. "I _knew_ you were a nice girl." Her laugh is high and shrill and even though it's at my expense, it still makes me smile embarrassedly. "You were making fucking signs."

"Outside the courthouse! After hours!" I'm feeling a little indignant because I did break the law! And I would have put those posters all over the town's buildings had the police not shown up almost immediately. Everyone scattered - including Gale who was going to get a piece of my mind - and I was let with the can of spray paint.

Johanna smirks at me and I see her cheek dimpling in spite of the oversized ice pack. "Sure thing kid."

"Excuse me, Miss Knows All The Panem PD By Name. Not all of us are in here for our chivalrous and violent tendencies." I'm not sure where the comment comes from but it's worth it to see the sparkling in her eyes as she tilts her head back and laughs. We settle into a comfortable silence as she holds the ice pack to her face.

After about twenty minutes of the ice compression I look over at her again. "You can take the ice pack off. Let me see it." She gives me a weird look but humors me by removing the pack from her lip. I reach into my pocket and withdraw the Chapstick I always have on me. Gently I take her jaw between my free fingers and bite the cap off. Before I begin her and I lock eyes and I swear I see desire in her deep brown hues. Even her lip twitches slightly in the ghost of a smirk. I apply a small amount of chapstick on her. "That'll prevent it from drying out because of the ice," I tell her, my voice hovering just above a whisper.

A small smile comes on my lips as I let her go and she lets out a tiny breath she had been holding. "Thanks nurse." Her voice is lower than what I've heard so far and it sends shivers through me.

I blush, embarrassingly, and put the Chapstick away. "Hardly. But you are gonna need stitches you know." She touches her lip as if she doesn't believe me, like the ice would have healed it in twenty minutes. "Don't touch it," I scold, pulling her hand down. "You'll make it bleed again."

She huffs in annoyance and places her hands in her lap. The clicking of heels brings both of our attention to the bars where my mother appears, frazzled and angry in her rose-colored scrubs and sensible white sneakers. Officer York emerges from behind her, going through her keys and unlocking the bars. "You can go, Everdeen."

The initial elation of my release quickly dissipates as I look back at Johanna, whose eyes are on the ground. I feel extremely guilty about possibly leaving her here by herself. Her lip really does need attention that she's clearly not going to get here. I look to the women at the bars. "Can Johanna come too? She needs to be seen at a hospital. She needs stitches in her lip."

My mother comes into the jail cell without permission from the woman beside her and peers down at Johanna. For the first time since I got here Johanna looks nervous. It's completely adorable and I find myself trying to hide a smile. My mother inspects her cut and nods her head. "My daughter is right. This young lady needs a few stiches. I need to clean that wound and sow her up." She turns to Officer York and tilts her head, her messy blonde ponytail falling to the side. "I presume you do not have the equipment necessary for that here?"

There is a long silence as Officer York looks between the three of us. Her steely gaze finds Johanna who has her lips pursed and seems a little baffled and intimidated by the situation. "Fine. You can go too, Mason. Get your lip checked out and please don't make me pick you up from Abernathy's bar again?"

Johanna smiles as she stands up and gives Officer York a mocking salute to which York responds with a sour frown. My mother leads us out of the police station after signing out both of us and our things. I don't know who was coming for Johanna but she rattles off a text immediately to some unknown person on the other side of the ether.

Before we get into the car Johanna pauses in the parking lot, hazarding a glance toward the sleepy street. One street lamp flickers on and off as she returns her gaze to me. Is she going to run? "Um, you don't have to actually bring me to the hospital. I'll be fine."

My mother is having absolutely none of Johanna's nonsense as she presses the button on her key fob to unlock the doors. She goes over to Johanna and stands directly in front of her. "Young lady, you need medical attention. I cannot just let you walk home in the dead of night with your lip half open and probably getting infected. Please, get in the car so I can get you treated?"

Johanna looks thoroughly chastised and nods her head glumly, climbing into the backseat of my mother's crossover SUV. I get into the front and soon we're zooming off toward the hospital. I glance in the side view mirror to see Johanna staring out the window as the downtown area of Panem passes us by. I don't know what Johanna's story is - she seems overly confident when dealing with the authorities, but looked completely out of her depth when being scolded by my mother. She was old enough to drink and frequented whatever bar she was at before getting arrested, and was on friendly - almost _too friendly _\- terms with the officers in the police station. Yet, there was something about her that seemed innocent. Something about her that drew me to her immediately. It wasn't just that she's beautiful, though she is, there's something more to her.

I want to know her.

* * *

My mother brings her to the hospital and escorts her through the hallways until we get to a vacant but lit hospital room. The hospital in Panem is not all that busy and tonight is no exception. Johanna hops up on the hospital bed, shimmying back until her feet don't hit the floor. I sit on the edge of the small desk in the room as my mother fumbles in a few drawers for things.

My eyes go down Johanna's tiny arms to her hands, which seem to be gripping the edge of the thin mattress hard enough to make her knuckles white. I watch as her breathing becomes shallow while my mom places some antiseptic liquid on a small cotton ball. Suddenly I'm struck with the memory of how nervous she was before we got in the car. She's _scared_. She's scared of hospitals. Between my sister being a little nurse-in-training and my mother having been one for the entirety of my existence, I've practically lived in hospitals. I hate seeing sick people and hearing their coughs, but the smells and sounds of hospitals don't unnerve me anymore. Johanna, however, looks as white as a sheet. I exchange a look with my mother and hop up on the bed next to Johanna.

"Have you ever heard about the story of the mockingjays?" Johanna looks over at me, part relieved, part confused and shakes her head. My mother takes Johanna gently by the jaw and begins to clean the wound. I hear Johanna suck in a breath and I place my hand over hers. "Really? Well, legend has it that a few thousand years ago, these birds called jabberjays were wild all over the country. The natives said that the birds could repeat entire conversations so many of the warring tribes used them to spy on one another. Eventually people got wise to this and began feeding the jabberjays all sorts of misinformation. Everyone had enough after a while and they all stopped using them and breeding them, letting them die out." I eye my mother as she takes out a small syringe of anesthesia. Johanna tenses again so I peel her fingers from the bed and clasp her hand with mine. She immediately entwines our fingers and flashes me a very brief, appreciative smile.

"Okay Johanna, I'm just going to apply some local anesthesia then I'll do the stitches. I'll be quick as a whip." My mother smiles soothingly at Johanna who gives her a curt nod.

I rub my thumb in circles on the top of Johanna's hand to bring her attention back to me. "Unfortunately for the natives, the jabberjays mated with the mockingbirds that were living here at the time. A new breed was made: the mockingjay. The mockingjays can't repeat human conversations like the jabberjays, but they can mimic speech tones. They can do high whistles or a man's deep baritone. They can sing entire verses of songs if they like who's singing."

My mother smiles as she begins to stitch Johanna's lip. "Katniss's father would sing to them. They loved to hear him sing. Katniss sings to them too."

Johanna's head is still but her eyes catch me out of her periphery. "They don't love me as much." Johanna's eyes go to my mother who tut-tuts her disapproval under her breath. I roll my eyes and continue. "Anyway, the mockingjays are rare now but my dad and I would go hunting in the woods and he taught me how to sing to them when I was little. Sometimes if you do deep enough in the woods and the song is sweet, they'll still sing to you."

My mother finishes up with Johanna's stitches and backs away from her. Johanna lets out a long breath and her body shivers a little. I grip her hand tighter and both her and my mother look down at our fingers. My mom grins at us and excuses herself from the room to "get some paperwork in order." Johanna places her free hand on her lip and outlines the tiny stitches on her mouth.

I'm about to say something and Johanna rolls her eyes and huffs. "I know I know, I won't touch it. At least now I know where you get it from."

"Hardly. I'm not really the caregiver type."

She raises her eyebrow at this and looks down at our hands, then back up at me. "Whatever you say." Her eyes scan the white tile floors and I can see her throat bob before she speaks. "Thank you. For your help and ...for now. I don't like hospitals."

I shrug my shoulders, realizing that my thumb is still caressing the softness of the top of her hand. She doesn't seem to mind so I continue. "It's no problem. I've seen a lot of people pass out just at the smell. So you did pretty well."

"What do I do now?"

I smile at her and slide off the edge of the bed, regretfully untangling our fingers and crossing my arms over my chest. "Well you'll need to get signed out of the hospital at the front desk. The woman, Effie Trinket - you'll see her because she has like a giant purple wig on at all times - she can sign you out. And then you come back in a few days and they'll remove your stitches."

A grin returns to her features as she drags her eyes up the length of my body to my face. "Will you be here to hold my hand then, too?"

I chuckle at this and raise my eyebrow. "If you want me to."

She hops off the bed and stands directly in front of me. We're so close now I can smell the small hint of perfume she has on her, and the overwhelming yeast smell of beer. Her arm snakes around me toward the desk where she grabs something. Her hand takes my arm like she did in the cell and turns my hand over. She clicks the pen open and scribbles some digits on my palm.

My eyes don't leave her lips as she speaks. Even with her little cut in the middle I'm fighting the strange urge to kiss her. _I barely even know her! _"Here's my number. How about ..I call you when I can get these stitches off and I pick you up? We come here, say hi to your mother, get these weird things out of my lip, and as a thank you, you let me take you out to dinner?"

I move my gaze down to my hand and look at her number scrawled in a fairly neat print on the center of my palm. She has to stop staring at me like that because my stupid hands will sweat off the ink. "I'd like that."

Her tongue darts out to gently swab her lips and she smirks again. "Let's try not to get arrested in the mean time, okay? No more criminal mischief, young lady."

"No more fights, Miss Mason."

She backs away from me and wiggles her eyebrows. "I don't normally make promises, but I'll make the exception this time. See you on Saturday, Mockingjay." She jams her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and walks out the door toward the exit. I don't know how a night out with Gale and our friends spray-painting signs by the courthouse turned into a date for me on Saturday. It feels like perhaps I dreamed it. But Johanna is certainly not a dream and I find myself already excited to find out how very real she is.

* * *

Author's Note: My first attempt at a one-shot! How'd I do? :)


End file.
